Hail Mary
by Regian
Summary: When Middleton's forgotten star QB meets Kim Possible, he shows her the lifestyle of a street football player and teaches her how to compete. Please RR!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible, Disney does. Sue me and all you'll get is a bagel. A very STALE bagel.

Author's Ramblings: This was an idea of mine for a while, and I finally decided to type it out and begin this interesting story of mine. This is definitely something that I haven't seen a lot of around I really hope you guys have some interest in this, and that you enjoy reading it. Especially you sports fans. Enjoy!

"Hail Mary"  
By  
Regian

Prologue: One Question

As a kid, we all grew up idolizing that one person who we thought we could grow up to be. Whether it was a superhero, a celebrity or a musician. We had the poster on the wall, we always defending their honor when someone doubted them or made a comment about their talents.

Then there were those who looked up to athletes. We admired the talent, the sportsmanship, and the ability to always make someone go "Wow." We cheered for them whether they won or lost. No matter what happened, we were always on their side.

But then as we grow older, we hear the stories of how they really were: Greedy, manipulative, and careless. Declining contracts when there wasn't enough money on the table, spending thousands on booze and drugs, sexual encounters that led to highly publicized trials and settlements. It was hard to take it all in at that point. Everything you believed in as a child was gone. The image of a squeaky-clean role model was gone.

I look at these kids coming out of high school with the idea that some college will come up to them and hand them a scholarship to play football. Mind you that an education is secondary to that kid, they look at the big picture. They see the money, the fame, the girls and the lifestyle. Who really needs an education, anyways? With all of the money that they'll get for endorsements and public appearances will sure enough make them refuse to ponder the fact that in reality, they need an education.

What happens when you get injured? What happens when the doctor comes into the room and tells you that you can't play football anymore? The scholarships, gone. The dreams you had as a kid, gone. And the people who had faith in you to go all the way and make a name for yourself, all gone.

I know how this feels. It happened to me.

I'm Christopher McCage, I'm 23 years old. I played quarterback for Middleton High School for four years. After I broke my leg midway through my Senior season, it all went downhill. The season in which we were expected to go all the way fell apart when I got injured. There went the scholarships, there went the fame, there went every person who had faith in me. I don't even want to talk about my dreams anymore, as they were left on Middleton's field when I went down.

A year after fully recovering from my injury, I moved out of my parent's house. I live in a small apartment, working a full-time job at Bueno Nacho. I want to pursue a college education, but I hardly make enough money to pay rent. It's not easy to get a higher paying job when you don't have a college education.

After the years since my injury, people forget I even exist. I go out some nights to grab something to eat when I have enough cash on me. I see people giving me glances, pointing and saying something to the person next to them, or other times not even acknowledging that I'm in the room. It's almost like I'm not even wanted around here anymore.

But I do find a refuge. Every weekend, the day I get off from work is my day to roam the streets in and away from Middleton. This is where I get my therapy. This is the way football is to be played, on the streets and fields of urban America.

I find the hot spots around the town, sometimes out of town, and make myself available for pick-up games. I've seen players younger and older than me, some of them looking to improve on their game and some of them looking just to play.

Our rules are simple: Seven players to a team. And just like the beginning days of the NFL, you play defense AND offense. That's the way football is meant to be played. There are no cameras, no fans, no money and no stars. The only thing you play for is pride. If there's an object on the field, it's fair game. There is no pass interference, holding, roughing the passer and all of the rules that take the fun out of the game. You work hard to defend the quarterback, you put out as much effort to get that extra yard on the rush and you push whoever you want out of the way to make the catch. Time? Not an issue. There are no play clocks or time limits, you play until you're the first to get to a certain score. Don't even bother about kicking, it's either a touchdown or a turnover.

Even though those are the rules everyone can agree on, there's always one question we have to settle:

"Who gets the ball first?"


	2. Has Been

Author's Ramblings: Wow. It's been four months since I posted the prologue of this story. I apologize to everyone who has been waiting for me to update this. It's been a hell of a last few months with work and other situations arising.

Anyways, here's another chapter to set up the new character(s) in this story. Don't worry, there's definitely more to come.

I have changed the rating to this story to "M", as I might be doing some rather brutal descriptions of upcoming games and other incidents, also including language.

Peace!

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Chapter One: "Has Been"

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"I'm open! Hit me!"

These are words that you wouldn't expect to hear at 1AM. But in the lot of a closed down car dealership, there isn't a sweeter phrase to yell to your quarterback.

Chris saw his receiver sprinting down the left sideline, which was sloppily marked with chalk. He took a step back, bringing his arm back. But before he could move forward, the heavy-set lineman pushed his way past the offensive line and heading straight towards him.

Immediately, he started back stepping to avoid being tackled, then swung to the right as the defensive lineman leaped for his feet. Even for him, that was too close of a call. Looking back down the field he saw one of the other defensive players run towards his once open receiver.

_"There goes that option…"_

Watching as his three offensive linemen kept the other two defensive linemen left from getting any closer to him, he started running to the right.

"He's rushing! He's rushing!"

He began his sprint up the field, watching as his receivers became blockers in a split second. He ran a little more to the right, running along the sidelines as he looked for his best path. Suddenly, he saw one of his men get pushed aside and tumble onto the hard asphalt.

"Come to daddy!"

Chris locked eyes with the defensive back that sprinted in his direction. If there was one thing he learned from high school football was never to look at a defender's next movement, you always kept your eyes locked on his. He slowed his pace, turning to the left in an attempt to spin away from the defender. He felt the defender's hand grab his old Steve Young jersey, tugging it down. He began to lose control of his balance, starting to fall to the ground.

"Yo! I'm right here, Chris!"

Suddenly, a blonde-haired man ran from behind him. His attire of a Hawaiian shirt, baggy jeans, sunglasses and a gold chain around his neck made him an eyesore to some, but noone could ever question his game.

"Take it, Hollywood!" Chris yelled, tossing the ball backwards to him.

The young man caught the ball, sprinting his way to the endzone marked by two trashcans at the end of the lot. He took the ball, holding it high in the air and looking back at the rest of the pack as they slowed their paces.

"It's all Hollywood, baby!" he shouted.

He ran into the endzone, getting down on one knee and pointing towards the sky. He was always the showboat of game. He'd either make you laugh if you played with him, or pissed you off if you played against him.

Chris got up from the ground, jogging towards the endzone. The grin on his face was wider than a child waking up on Christmas morning.

"Man, you don't have to rub it in like that," he commented, taking the ball from Hollywood.

"Hey! That was our winning score, man," Hollywood said, lifting his shades. "Besides, nothing wrong with being a little flashy, my man."

Chris smiled, placing an arm around his buddy's shoulder. He had known him since high school, and played with him on Middleton's football team every year he was quarterback. Hollywood, real name Dave Markley, played wide receiver on Middleton's team. He had earned a scholarship to Purdue University to play for their team, but quit after a year. He came back to Middleton to take care of his mother and continue an education closer to home at the community college in downtown Middleton.

"Hey, man!" one of the opposing players exclaimed. "That wasn't fair! You can't pass after you cross the line of scrimmage!"

"It wasn't a forward pass," Chris replied. "You can't throw a forward pass after crossing the line of scrimmage. It was quite obvious that I threw behind me."

Another player from the opposing team came and patted his fellow player on the back, shaking his head. The two turned around and started walking away. It was clear that both of them seemed a little aggravated because of the events.

Chris tucked the ball under his arm and began walking in the opposite direction from the opposing players. Hollywood tagged along behind him.

"So, you wanna go grab something to eat?" he asked.

"No," Chris shook his head. "I've got work in the morning. I figured we would've been done by midnight."

"Work? C'mon, man. We just won our first game in a month!"

"Dude, I gotta pay the bills. I'd love to go and grab some chow, but I hardly have enough money to do anything right now. Plus, I've been late three times this month already."

"I'll pay. Just pay me back when you get paid."

"Wood, I can't be late. If I have any chance of getting a raise soon, I need to keep showing up on time."

"Alright, dude," Markley replied as he gave his teammate a pat on the back. "Perhaps another time."

Chris nodded, opening the door to his worn down Oldsmobile. He let out a small sigh as he began to slink into the car.

"Yo, Chris!" called out Markley.

Chris slid back out for a second, looking over the roof of the car. He saw Markley throw the ball in his direction, to which he raised his right arm up and caught the ball one-handed.

"You know you still got it, bro!"

Chris brought the ball in with him as he slunk back down into the car. He looked at it for a few minutes. The stitching on he ball was wearing out; the "Wilson" logo had pretty much faded from the skin of the ball, and the sides showed signs of wear as the leather started to crack.

He reached over and closed the door of his car, still keeping his eyes on the ball. He remembered when it once meant something to those around him. It was the one thing that he could proudly show his friends and family.

_"The game ball goes to the man who brought this team one game closer to clinching our chances into the divisional playoffs, Chris McCage!"_

The only time he got the game ball during his Senior year. It turned out to be the last game ball he got. The one thing he remembered most about that night was the smile on the faces of his fellow Seniors, and the celebration of his family and friends afterwards.

He tossed the ball into the backseat, letting it roll and nestle into the back of the seat. To him it's a reminder of a time where he was the man, the time in which everyone expected the next prodigy of football to emerge from one of the smallest schools in America.

He started the car, hearing the engine purr as he shifted into "drive". He made a turn around the lot, flipping on his headlights and making his way onto the main road.

He yawned as he began to press down on the gas a little more. The clock read "1:34" in his car.

_"Great, perhaps I can manage a good five hours before getting ready in the morning."_

He kept his eyes focused on the road, but soon came past the one place that he just couldn't ignore.

The big purple sign said "Big Game Tonight!" as a large "M" logo on the side made sure it was noticed by all who passed by it at night. He remembered what it was like coming to school with that big announcement on the sign. It was a feeling of excitement, but at the same time a feeling of nervousness.

He was sure he'd never feel that way again.

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He pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex. It was about two o'clock as he exited his car and walked up the sidewalk to the poorly lighted doorway. He unlocked the door and walked inside, making his way to the elevator.

He pressed the "up" button, waiting in the doorway of the elevator. He listened as the whirrs and clicks of the elevator could be heard through the little crack in the door.

The door opened with a squeak as he made his way into the elevator. Graffiti was sprayed all over the walls, mainly gang signs and obscenities. He leaned against the wall of the elevator as he pushed the "3" on the panel.

_"Look where I am now."_

He would've never expected to be in this kind of scenario his Senior year. But with everything falling the way it has, it could be much worse.

But out of everything he lost, there was one thing he could never let go.

_"Chris, I think we should see other people."_

If the heartbreak of not being able to play football wasn't enough, he lost the one thing he loved the most.

_"But, why? I thought you were happy with everything."_

_"Chris, I need to be with someone who's going to make me more..."_

"_More what?"_

"_Secure in life. Both mentally and financially."_

Financially. That one hurt the most. As much as he loved her, he couldn't believe that one of the only things she cared about in that relationship was her financial well-being. The star quarterback signing a multi-million dollar contract so she could spend half of it on clothes and other bullshit that she could possibly live without.

And secure mentally? What did he do wrong? He was there for her step-by-step in whatever she did. Perhaps it was just an excuse to cover the "financially" part.

Or maybe she did what everyone else did: She jumped ship just before it sank.

**DING!**

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out into the hallway. He walked down a few doors until he stood in front of his door, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a single silver key.

He inserted the key into the doorknob and turned it, feeling a slight brush of cold air escaping his room. He flipped on the light of his room, looking around at the mess that resided along with him.

On the walls of his room were posters of the people he had looked up to growing up, and through his high-school career. Brett Favre, Steve Young and Joe Montana were the highlights of his room. The achievements that these three alone accomplished on the field in their careers were nothing less than amazing.

There were also reminders of what once was. Newspaper clippings from his games in the first three years, trophies from school and division presentations, there was so much that he could look back on.

But those were the only things he could look back on.

_"He's nothing more than a has-been now."_

Those words came from his former coach, and were the toughest to hear. A has-been. He had only heard that word described to athletes past their prime. He knew deep down that he wasn't a has-been. His time wasn't up in his mind.

He took of his shirt and flipped the light back off, crawling into his bed. He rested his head against his pillow and let out a small sigh. He reached over and set the alarm on his clock, knowing he had a nice five-hour slumber ahead of him.

He began to close his eyes, turned over on his side, and then whispered...

"I suppose it's better to be a has-been than a never-was."

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What did you think? Gimme your feedback and I'll get to cracking on the next chapter. Thanks for your time and patience!


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